


Roots

by streetlights



Series: if you could hear me, speak [3]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetlights/pseuds/streetlights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a tourist and nothing more. But you believed in twists of fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roots

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired by Florence and the Machine's [Blinding](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQjx9ZiVQvY). You'll find vague references to the lyrics/theme here.
> 
> Part III of the series, but this chronologically happens before the first two.

 

 

There are some who are chosen, and there are some who are led.

Only fools dare to replicate the fate of others.

 

 

 

You know how the story ends.

Waiting for him on cold nights, alone and longing.

Watching him fade little by little. Watching him slowly pass through your fingertips like wisps of snow and smoke and vapor.

Intangible.

And barely real.

 

One day, he just disappears.

 

 

 

You try to weave the story back to life.

Open windows and warm blankets. Video games you’re never too old for. Hot chocolate, two lumps of sugar. Just the way he likes it.

(Stolen kisses and muffled laughter and first flights and the surging warmth springing from your chest, even though the arms that capture you are arctic and freezing and the Wind is mercilessly splashing on your face.)

You shiver in the cold and you wait, wait, wait.

 

 

 

Your sister tries to cover the cracks in your heart, tries to creep into the darkness behind your eyelids and crevices in your bones.

But you never let her.

“Why can’t you let go?” she asks.

You want to ask her, _why did you?_

But all you can do is hold her hand.

 

 

 

The following week there is a blizzard. Your mother closes your windows shut and yells at you for opening them. You huff, saying _I have to see him_. But she doesn’t listen.

The snow doesn’t let up for _days_. You gather all your toys and put them in boxes, just as your mother asked.

When spring comes, you help your parents with the garage sale. Every single one of your toys get sold.

 

 

 

You meet her during work. Her name is Anna.

She isn’t like Jack in many ways. Jack is charming and boyish and… _Jack._ Anna is sweet and alluring, lion-hearted and fragile, like dewdrops on spiders’ webs. She doesn’t believe in magic, but she believes in _you_.

“And isn’t that enough?” she asks.

You didn’t write her in your story, but you let her in anyway. Meticulous ink calligraphy in your blank pages, where frost and snowflakes should have been.

 

 

 

You visit his lake when you’re in Burgess.

 _Jack_ , you call out. _I know you can hear me._

You hear the rustling of Wind and the faintest echo of your voice. But not Jack’s voice.

The ice melts at your feet as spring and summer threaten to fall.

 

 

 

You dream of death and snow and white-haired sprites. You have fallen in love with the world beyond.

(You cling to it like a talisman, your small constellation of wishes.)

“Why do you keep insisting?” she asks in a whispery voice, hands clasped and eyes trained on yours. She reminds you of fairytales and tea parties and perfect happy endings. “You’re in love with the wrong world.”

“I know,” you tell her. “Is that so wrong?”

“You hold on to magic as if it was a lifeline,” she says with a rueful smile. Her fingers curl, but you don’t hold her hand. “Is this world not enough?”

She asks you to hold her heart but you cannot heal the splinters.

 

 

 

_I can’t stay Jamie._

_You have to love your own world too._

You know how the story starts.

A snow-filled room and a light that can never be extinguished from your eyes.

 

 

You know how it falls apart.

The status quo, the reality, and time that ticks on and on and on…

 

 

 

You are a tourist and nothing more. But you believed in twists of fate.

(There will be no more waiting, no more dreaming, no more calling out to someone you cannot hear.)

This is your secret.

You are silent when you leave. The sky is bleak, but there is no snow.

 

 

 

You race towards his garden, his home, his stage.

The lake is frozen as always. In the distance, you imagine your sister and your not-lover screaming your name with parched lips and hoarse voices.

The moon is full and the wind is strong. You never hear his voice asking you to _stop, stop, go back!_

The blizzard grows stronger.

You are numb, and you can barely feel your breath in the hollows of your cheeks. You think you feel something cold nipping at your nose, but you can’t be sure. _I don’t want to leave,_ you tell him. _You can’t make me._

You reach up, slowly and with much effort.

“You can make anything come true, right?” you whisper to the bright globe above. “Then I have a wish…”

For once, you hear his voice screaming in your ears. It makes your heart ache.

 

You breathe your last breath, and you fall.

 

 

 

This is how you wanted your story to end:

You, with your magic rushing heavily through your veins like blood, with immortality wrung around your wrists like coil. You, with your freedom in your pockets and love that does not choke your throat, with your fingernails that scrape the world into your cocoon.

That you might hold his hand again.

 

 

This is how your story ends:

You, cold and clammy and floating in the brink, having breathed too much snow for one lifetime. Curled up in your not-lover’s arms, your sister’s tears streaking her face. Frost forming in gentle patterns around the snow.

 

 

 

There are some who are chosen, and there are some who are led.

You are not one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Er, I don't know if it shows. But the last blizzard was Jack's way of trying to stop Jamie since he can't directly communicate with him anymore.


End file.
